Dinah Nichols, the niece of Mrs. Nichols and the maid that Mr. Witting had a liking for, ushered the three Bennets and Mr. Darcy into Netherfield through the servants' entrance. "Begging your pardon for asking you to use this way in, but it wouldn't do for people to be seeing you coming up the front when the house is empty. They'd start asking questions."
"It is no trouble, Dinah," said Elizabeth with a kind smile. "We are glad to be able to be here and to look over the house."
"You will find him, won't you?" asked Dinah, wringing her hands. She looked between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, who both tried to give looks conveying reassurance, but only added to her worries.
"We will try," Mr. Darcy answered. "I will spare no expense."
Dinah thanked him earnestly, and Mr. Darcy thought to himself that Mr. Witting would be left in no doubt of Dinah's affection when he returned. If he returned. Mr. Darcy was certain that he could find a place for such a pleasant young maid in his employment. He did not really need another servant, but it would allow her and Mr. Witting to be together, at least some of the time.
"You don't think it could have been a lover's quarrel and she might have done it?" whispered Lydia to the others when they had left the maid's hearing.
"I do not think it was her. She seemed sincerely distraught. If she can act that well, she would be an actress rather than a maid," said Elizabeth.
The party skipped over the servants' quarters, which could possibly be searched later, and went upstairs to the family wing of the house. As the unoccupied rooms had already been searched, they decided to start by looking in the room that Miss Bingley had inhabited. Mr. Darcy was clearly uneasy entering the room, as if Miss Bingley was going to emerge and declare a compromise, even with the women in the room.
The room was exactly as it was expected to be by all who entered. The bedding was luxurious and plush, with a white coverlet stitched with ornate floral designs in vibrant oranges and purples. Purple and orange filled the room, but the furniture retained the good taste of the previous owner, not yet replaced. It was all a very ugly — but likely very stylish — picture.
Elizabeth took the initiative, her hands shaking as she rapidly went through the drawers of the writing desk. Jane, in contrast, slowly examined the wardrobe, her eyes scanning the selection and searching through the pockets of each remaining garment. Lydia was on a mission, her hands tearing apart the carefully made bed without hesitation. Mr. Darcy stood aside, not knowing what to do. Finally, he decided that he ought to do something and began knocking on the walls and floorboards, listening for any hollow spots.
"The ink blotter!" exclaimed Lydia suddenly, running to the desk where Elizabeth was reading the papers left in the desk. She grabbed the top sheet of paper that had been untouched since Miss Bingley left and read it with excitement.
"It says nothing important, Lyds," said Elizabeth. "I already looked at it. It only has notes to servants about closing the house. I think it must have been replaced the day they departed."
Lydia felt disappointed and pouted, as she had been so sure that it would contain the key to unlock all the mysteries. A wave of hope washed over her as she recalled the other ink blotters scattered about the house, and the possibility of secrets hidden away in the attic and cellar.
Jane was astonished when she pulled out a page of a letter that had slipped behind the drawer in the wardrobe. The handwriting had a heavy, masculine quality, with each letter written precisely. Mr. Darcy asked to examine the note in order to compare the handwriting to that of the other missive. It was dissimilar, but one's handwriting could be disguised.
"Well, what does it say?" asked Lydia. She was exasperated that her companions were taking their sweet time, and no one was reading the letter out loud.
"It… It is not fit to read aloud," said Mr. Darcy.
Jane agreed, having read a few of the words in the letter.
"It is from a lover and is rather… descriptive," Mr. Darcy explained.
"There is nothing pertaining to the matter at hand?" asked Elizabeth.
"Not that I can see," said Mr. Darcy. "However, given the circumstances, I think I ought to remove it. If it turns out anyone connected with the Bingleys has something to do with this, it might provide their motivation. If they do not, I can burn it and keep it out of other hands."
Elizabeth and Jane gave a silent nod of approval to his wise conclusions, while Lydia crossed her arms in frustration that she was not allowed to read the letter. After scrutinizing the room again and not finding anything of any significance, they asked Dinah to put the room back in order while they ventured to the connecting sitting room and dressing room. They quickly realized that their search was fruitless when all they found were a few buttons and coins. Not wanting to waste any more time, they decided to look through Mr. Bingley's and the Hursts' chambers.
In order to search more efficiently, the four divided into teams of two as the Hursts' chambers were connected. The door between the rooms would be left open, of course, as Mr. Darcy would have to search with a lady. Lydia offered to help Jane with a smirk on her face, shooting a sideways glance at Elizabeth as she did so. Mr. Darcy also saw the smirk, and given the nature of the girl, assumed correctly her reasoning. Not that he minded being somewhat alone with Elizabeth.
The air in Mr. Hurst's chambers was thick with the pungent scent of cigars and liquor, even so long after his departure. Darcy was uncertain what substances had caused the many stains spotting the carpet, but hoped they were from food or drink. Elizabeth rushed to the desk and started going through the papers, but nothing of consequence was discovered. The blotter was empty, and the only documents present were bills and sales receipts. A notable amount of these were present, however. Elizabeth said this out loud, and it caught the attention of Mr. Darcy's interest.
He walked over to her so he could go through the papers himself. When he leaned in near to look, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, making it almost impossible for her to maintain her concentration on the numbers. She could feel his breath on her neck, and it sent a shiver down her spine. He seemed to be studying the papers with great intensity, and she couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed by his closeness. She could no longer smell the stuffy air of the room as the sweet scent of his cologne enveloped her.
"Are you quite well, Miss Elizabeth?" asked Mr. Darcy, breaking Elizabeth's trance.
"Perfectly," she said, trying not to blush.
"You do not seem at all like your usual self. You are very flushed. Do you wish to move to a sitting room, so you can rest?"
The words were uttered with such gentleness and compassion that Elizabeth felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. She had been stupid enough to let her imagination run away with her, and here was the result. Mr. Darcy had noticed her confusion and was offering her an excuse to leave the room. "No," she replied. "I am well. I simply was overwhelmed by the scent of cigars for a moment."
"It is quite strong. No wonder. Mr. Hurst spent over a hundred pounds on tobacco, cigars, and the like, if all these bills are his," said Mr. Darcy.
"Are the Hursts very wealthy?" asked Elizabeth. "I do not mean to be vulgar, but I understood that the Hursts relied very much on Mr. Bingley. Mayhap I am wrong."
"Mr. Hurst has an estate and a house in town, but I think the latter he can ill-afford. His estate brings in about the same as Longbourn, I would imagine. It was his connection to the Lord Oxted that was the reason for his marriage to Mrs. Hurst. She could not pass up the connection."
"The connection?" asked Elizabeth.
"Lord Oxted is a rather impoverished earl, but an earl, nonetheless. He is Mr. Hurst's great uncle."
"I am surprised that it was never mentioned."
"Lady Oxted brought some disgrace on the name a few years ago, so the connection is no longer a boon."
"I see. Is Mr. Hurst in contact with his great-uncle?"
"I do not think so."
Elizabeth saved this information to consider at a later time before she rose and began to examine the small connecting dressing room. She needed to increase the distance between herself and Mr. Darcy. They didn't find anything else of note. It seemed like Jane and Lydia had not either, if Lydia's exasperated comments about all the floorboards being firmly attached were any indication.
The group came back together in the Hurst's sitting room and relayed what they had found as they searched. Lydia told them, quite scandalised, about the drawings that were underneath Mrs. Hurst's mattress. Elizabeth and Jane felt their faces grow hot and red, even though Jane had already known what Lydia was likely to say. Except more bills, they had found nothing else.
"It is likely, I think, that the Hursts are in a great deal of debt," said Elizabeth. "It would provide motivation."
"But why Mr. Witting?" asked Jane. "Surely they have much better opportunities to take higher ranked people, if it is them."
"I do not accuse. I only say that twenty-thousand pounds may be a motivation if it is them," her sister replied.
"Mr. Hurst may also not be best pleased with me," said Mr. Darcy. "A few days before they left, he lost nearly four hundred pounds to me, because he insisted on playing high. In the past, I might have forgiven him this sum, but I have noticed that Mr. Hurst's gambling is getting out of hand. I wished to teach him a lesson."
"You would forgive a man four hundred pounds!" exclaimed Elizabeth.
Mr. Darcy glanced around the room, his discomfort palpable. "It is not the first time."
Elizabeth thought back to Mr. Wickham and his tale of misuse. Even if Elizabeth had not been told by Mr. Darcy about Mr. Wickham's sins, this generosity towards Mr. Hurst would have undoubtedly extended to Mr. Wickham as well, if he had been deserving.
"Why are you looking at me so strangely?" asked Mr. Darcy.
"I think I am beginning to come to know your character, Mr. Darcy," said Elizabeth. "I believe, sir, that I must apologise for the earlier opinions that I held about you and the very ill-mannered way that I acted towards you while my sister and I resided in this house."
"I saw nothing to censure in your behaviour."
"You did not?" Elizabeth said, surprised.
Mr. Darcy looked at her quizzically. "Of course. You and your sister are the models of gentility."
Lydia interrupted with a loud cough. "Can we please move on? We do not have all day for you two to sit around and make love."
Elizabeth and Darcy both turned pink and muttered some words of protest, but they moved to Mr. Bingley's chambers. Nothing at all of interest was found within. Barely any personal effects remained. Darcy surmised that Miss Bingley had ensured every piece of Mr. Bingley's belongings had been sent to London to ensure he would not use a forgotten item as an excuse to return to Hertfordshire.
They looked through as much of the rest of the house as they could, but other than more bills in Mr. Bingley's study, they found nothing. They had not enough time to search every inch of the house, but they covered those places that had not previously been gone over and asked Dinah and Mrs. Nichols if they would keep their eyes open in the coming days. They agreed.
As the servants were soon to return, the party went out the garden entrance, even though it meant they had to wind through the maze and leave through a back gate. Lydia was disappointed in their search, for she had assumed they would find something of great interest. A part of a love letter and stacks of bills were hardly what she had hoped for. She kicked a rock along the path as she walked, trying to think of what Sir Francis would do in her situation. He would have found the valet by now, she was certain.
She kicked the rock harder, but it went wide and into the hedgerow on the right side of the path. She went after the rock, for although there were plenty of others, this one had a unique sound when it struck the ground.
Elizabeth was becoming irritated with her younger sister, for she was dallying. The servants would return very soon, and they needed to be elsewhere when they did. There was no guarantee that a servant would not take this path to return.
"Lydia, pray hurry," she asked, but Lydia was still, staring into the bush.
"What are you looking at?" asked Elizabeth.
"That!" said Lydia, pointing.
There, in the bush, lay what was almost certainly the remains of a man's hand.